


Lavation

by murdur



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif looks to the healing powers of a warm bath to soothe her suffering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lavation

Sif reached the heavy doors to her chambers, grunting slightly as the force required to push them open pulled uncomfortably at the bandaged wound spanning her side. The shieldmaiden was exhausted; persuading Eir to allow her leave from the healing room, insisting that she did not require another moment spent under the healer’s watchful gaze, had depleted the last of her energy.

She had received very little rest the previous night, kept awake by the wise healer applying salves, poking and prodding her tender side while clucking in disapproval at her physical state. Reveling in the quiet of her own chambers, Sif strode towards her bathing room. She would be glad to wash the dried blood from her hair, to scrub the dirt and stench of battle from her skin. Sif attempted to kick off her boots along the way to the bath. Her tired body betrayed her, feet tangling, and she stumbled, pitching forward suddenly.

Tensing her body, Sif prepared herself for a painful rendezvous with the cold tile of her floor, but the blow did not come. Cool hands gripped her elbows, keeping her upright and steadying her balance. Turning in surprise, Sif witnessed Loki step fully out of the shadows he had been lurking in. He released her elbows suddenly, as if the contact burned him and stood completely still. He was poised, tense, his cold gaze fixed on her face. Sif could nearly feel the fury rolling off of him.

Frozen in her surprise, Sif stalled, returning his glare. There were dark circles painting the pale skin beneath his eyes. He looked tired. Sif wondered briefly how long he had been laying in wait. He opened his mouth as if to speak, throat working and Sif tensed in anticipation of his cutting tongue. After a moment, when nothing passed from his lips except deep, angry breaths, Sif lost her patience. Turning on her heels, she strode away from him, continuing on her path towards her spacious tub. Although he moved silently, she was acutely aware of his presence as he stalked after her, a predator hunting his prey. 

Reaching for the golden nozzles, hot water steadily filled the large tub. She could feel his gaze bore into her back as she spilled perfumed oils into the stream of water, causing fragrant steam to haze the room. She kept her back to him, removing her leggings without care. She was far too weary and the goblet of an herbal elixir Eir insisted she drink made her head feel too heavy to partake in his game. No desire remained to decipher the root of his poor temper, and Sif resolved that she would not be the one to break the silence.

Grasping the hem of her tunic with both hands, the warrior lifted her arms to quickly shed her garment. Instead, she released a small, shocked cry when her arms elevated above her head. The healing skin along her ribs protested angrily at her movement. Loki was at her side in an instant, helping free her arms from the material. Tugging the tunic over her head, he tossed it carelessly to the floor, his eyes dropping to her ribs. His gaze surveyed the bandage lining her side. A strange look crossed his face and a fine-boned hand lifted as if to touch. Sif took a deep breath, grabbed the top of the bandage, and jerked, grunting at the way the cloth stuck and pulled at her skin. She exhaled, looking at the uncovered gash, red and angry against her pale skin.

“You fool,” Loki muttered under his breath, pulling his own tunic over his head.

Ignoring his comment, Sif turned off the nozzles and stepped into the deep basin, exhaling sharply as the hot water stung her tired feet. Her hands gripped the sides of the tub in an attempt to keep her tired legs steady as she slowly lowered herself. Slim arms wrapped across her hips, supporting her weight and easing both of their bodies down into the steaming water. Once she had settled to the bottom of the deep tub, water lapping against the top of her breasts, Loki released her body, sliding his naked form back to rest against the back of the tub.

Sif brought her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself in the fragrant water. She dropped her gaze, attempting to ignore her disappointment at the loss of contact. The heat of the water made her head buzz. She reached up slowly and pulled at the binding holding her hair high and away from her face. Once free, her raven tresses fell to veil her, creating a dark curtain about her face. Absentmindedly, Sif took a lock of her hair between her finger and thumb. Brown eyes scrutinized the dried blood stiffening the lock, binding the strands together. The memory of the sting of the blade that had struck her side flashed through her mind; the warmth of the blood she had taken in reparation with her own glaive as it splattered her face and hair. With a sigh, Sif tipped her head back, letting the water engulf her tresses, darkening her hair to a midnight black.

She leaned to her right, reaching for the vials of oil perched along the basin’s edge. A moment too late, the warrior realized her mistake, gasping painfully as she felt her skin stretch and pull cruelly at the thinly bonded scabs across her ribs. A disapproving grunt sounded in her ear while deft fingers angrily wrenched the containers from her hand. Sif froze, turning her face away from him. Loki let out an exasperated sigh, wrapping one arm around Sif’s waist, carefully pulling her closer.

“Be still,” he ordered.

Behind her, the dark prince pulled the stopper free from the vial before pouring an ample amount of the sweet smelling liquid into his palm. Sif did her utmost to remain motionless when clever fingers slid through her hair, sending a spark through her body. Her eyes fluttered closed, feeling the tips of Loki’s fingers press small circles against her temples. The perfumed liquid worked into a mild lather under his hands, long digits travelling backwards through her thick mane.

Releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Sif melted against his touch. All of her attention focused on the caress of his fingers sliding deeper into her hair, aware of the tension in her body washing away. 

He moved his hands in languid, circular motions, coaxing the oils through her thick mane. Graceful fingers ran through her dark tresses. Gentle tugs pulled on her scalp, loosening the dried blood and knots. She swallowed a moan of pleasure at the sensation of short fingernails lightly scratching the base of her head, feeling as though each hair follicle contained a livewire. Each touch from his skilled hands sent a tingling sensation to the base of the shieldmaiden’s spine.

He removed his hands from her hair, then placed them at the bottom of her hairline, moving up, fingers lazily spreading. She shivered at the feeling of her strands lifting and falling gently. Loki’s fingers twisted at the nape of her neck before smoothly sliding down, massaging to the base of her neck. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, despite the heat of the water.

Firm hands bracketed her temples. “Lean back,” he instructed, “slowly.” Sif obeyed his command, tentatively tipping her head back, exposing the graceful bend of her elongated neck. 

Loki reached for the small glass pitcher resting on a short table near the basin, dipping it into the water. As he lifted the container towards her crown, Sif closed her eyes again, immersing herself in the luxurious sensation of the warm water cascading through her hair. As the water flowed out of her hair and followed the path of her vertebrae down the length of her spine, Sif could not stop the shiver that overwhelmed her.

During a pause in his ministrations, Sif leaned back further, resting her heavy head against his shoulder and sliding her body to fit against his front. From this new vantage point, Sif lifted her eyes, surveying the long line of the prince’s neck. Her gaze mapped the path along his clenched jaw, observing the way dark eyelashes fanned against his sharp cheeks when he glanced down to retrieve a sponge. His hair was loose and Sif admired the state of it, enjoying the slight curl forming from the steam. Slowly, Sif turned her head into his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his bath-warmed skin.

Loki wrapped one arm around her waist, his palm fanning gently against her side, taking care to mind her lacerated skin. With his other hand, he began to drag a sponge slowly across her body, scouring and cleansing her flesh. Sif relaxed further, molding herself to the firm press of his chest. She let her hands rest atop the thighs bracketing her own, felt the ribbons of muscle laying just below the pale cover of his skin. Resuming her task, the warrior maiden placed soft, lingering kisses along the hard line of his jaw, against his neck, into the shell his ear while sighing contentedly. She moved one hand to skim along the forearm resting across her stomach, moving to lace her fingers with his.

Releasing the sponge, Loki lifted a hand to cup Sif’s jaw, tilting her head to look into her eyes. The anger that lined his face had faded slightly, but his brows were still knit together. His eyes, no longer cold and distant yet still serious, appraised her face.

“Sif,” a low murmur as his eyes settled on her mouth. He leaned forward, tilting his head. His thin lips brushed against hers, hesitant. Heat burst under her already flushed skin. Sif tightened her grip on his hand as he drew away.

Peering down at her, he tapped lightly under her chin with one long finger. “Up.” 

Once out of the bath, Sif retrieved a plush towel, running the cloth against her skin and hair as she made her way out of the humid room. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Loki submerge his body completely under the surface, running his hands through his hair in the cooling water.

Sif padded across the cool floor of her bed chambers, pausing at her dark wooden vanity to retrieve a wide-toothed comb. Glancing at the mirror, she briefly scrutinized the pink gash spanning her side. _It was worth it_ , she thought. _One more scar to wear with pride._ Dropping her towel, she turned and gingerly climbed onto her grand bed, careful not to jostle her tender side. Shifting to the center of the bed, she tucked her feet under herself and began to work the comb through the ends of her damp strands.

Loki emerged from the bathing room, a towel hanging loosely from his hips. His wet hair immaculately slicked back from his face. Wordlessly, he crossed to the bed, causing the mattress to dip slightly under his weight. Quick hands carefully plucked the comb from Sif’s grasp and he shifted to kneel at her side. Closing her eyes, Sif savored the wooden teeth raking against her scalp again and again as Loki meticulously pulled it through her tresses. She shuddered under his touch, nimble fingers parting her hair into sections and quickly twisting the strands into a snug braid. He released her hair once tied, a finger trailing down her spine.

Sif shifted her body until she was facing the prince, taking in his downcast eyes and the morose line his thin lips were set in. She closed the distance between them, tucked her arms under his, and pressed her face to his neck. Slowly, she swung her head side to side, inhaling the clean smell of him. Her lips grazed the smooth skin of his shoulder. Loki quickly gathered her into his arms, gently shifting their entangled forms to lie against the plump pillows.

Loki cradled her face in his palms, moved forward and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips soft, he kissed her in a slow way that made her chest constrict. Goosebumps bloomed across her skin as one of his hands left her cheek and slid down her neck, the tips of his slender fingers resting against her pulse. At the fluttered drumming of her heart, strong under his touch, Loki let out a quiet moan; hummed against her lips. Sif pulled closer, wrapped herself around his form like a vine.The heat from the bath still lingered on his skin. She lost herself to him, the way he tasted of mint and metal, the whisper of his lips as they caressed hers.

The calloused pads of her fingers trailed lightly over the muscles of his back, burying one hand into his damp hair. A contented sigh exhaled from her tired body. Loki skimmed his fingertips from her neck, tracing her collarbone then traveling down over her side. He paused there, feeling the raised edges of the long gash that marred her flesh. The warmth of his lips left hers as he pulled his face back, fingers tracing the recently closed wound. Despite the slight whimper that escaped the shield maiden’s lips, it was the look on Loki’s face that conveyed pain.

“How could you be so reckless?” his voice quiet, strained.

 _Ah, finally._ Sif resisted the urge to heave a great sigh or to roll her eyes, sensing the serious mood under Loki’s stern gaze. “It was not a careless action. Every move I make in battle is purposeful, deliberate. Do you doubt my skills? Or perhaps my intentions? I was simply fulfilling my duty to protect Asgard’s prince, as is my sworn oath.”

He practically snarled at that. “You know full well that I am capable of protecting myself.”

“I do not doubt that, _My Lord_ , though the troll wielding the blade that nearly claimed your life may disagree,” she smirked. “Or he would, if he still had a head to speak with.”

“Dammit, Sif.” Loki did not laugh, anger flashing across his face. “You are going to get yourself killed.” She felt his grip tighten on her hip at his harsh words. His face fell along with his voice, nearly imperceptible, “I won’t lose you.”

Sif’s smile softened. Raising a hand, she rested it gently on his cheek. Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to his, lips soft, the kiss tender. Pulling away slowly, she laced their fingers and pulled his arm around her as she turned away from him onto her side. Sif nestled back into his body as he reached down to tuck the silk sheets about them. She let out a soft sigh, feeling drowsy in the warm circle of his embrace. “It would be a great honor to die in battle. No warrior could ever hope for anything more. I would gladly lay down my life, die a thousand deaths for Asgard. For you.”

“You truly are a fool,” he huffed into her hair, pulling her tighter to him.

“Mmm,” she agreed with a smile, her eyes fluttering closed. “I love you too.”


End file.
